


depth

by Gertika



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Camping, Gen, Horror, Monologue, gun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gertika/pseuds/Gertika
Summary: The corners were a little bent, the white cardboard around the light sensitive area more rough to touch. The finish on the photograph glossy. Two men smiling at a camera. One with a more reserved smile, holding some playing cards, the other with a broader smile, extending his hand to take the picture. The high contrast from the harsh flash drawing deep lines of the shadows and the nylon fabric of the tent shining bright white at places.
Relationships: Sergio Perez & Lance Stroll
Comments: 12
Kudos: 8
Collections: F1 Soup Kitchen Secret Santa 2020





	depth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [legendofthefireemblem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthefireemblem/gifts).



> Welcome to the greatest adventure of my life as a writer. It is effectively a monologue from Checo and inspired by some of the literature I went through in research as well as a campsite I visited multiple times as a child. There's a lot of firsts for me in this one and I hope you enjoy it and have happy holidays!

I’m not being a rich prick about it, trust me, I would have very different reasons for not wanting to go camping with the bunch of you. I’ve done my fair share. I guess I should be more adventurous about it, but I can’t say I’m as brave as I used to be. I haven’t talked much about the trips I did take I suppose, the last one to the United States.

No, the first few weeks went well. I hitchhiked to anywhere, got dropped off at various campsites for the night and hopped in the next car the day after with no specific goal in mind. Did try to stay away from _those_ states, you know the ones. I suppose that’s why none of it makes much sense. Why the stories would be hazy at best.

The last one was something like Woods Lake, something generic like that. It was a nice place, beautiful really. A little peninsula into a lake with a handful of beaten paths on it to make traversal easier, I guess. I wouldn’t call it a real campsite really, there was barely anything to it. I’d seen a farm when walking down to it from the main road but there was only an old partially rotten sign showing where the areas were that you could set up a fire at. I didn’t plan on getting cold, so I made my way to the closest one of those clearings.

I knew from the map the clearing wasn’t far. Just half a kilometer or so down the path by the lake. The sign showed it to be a semicircle opening to the lake but with how grown in the path seemed to be, I doubted the opening’s shape before getting there. I thought it may still be connected to the lake but no way it would be an actual semicircle anymore.

You know, up to then I had either been at very populated campgrounds or just desolate ones so seeing a guy at the opening was very confusing. He was younger than me, a smiley guy, waved when he saw me walking up. Introduced himself as Lance. Lance was Canadian, on his own trip around the US and seemed excited to have someone to talk to, I didn’t mind. The opening was smaller than on the map, but the area connected to the lake bigger than I would have guessed. The view was beautiful.

I set my tent up at the same opening around the campfire spot while Lance sat on a log nearby talking about how he’d shown up just a few hours earlier. Where he’d been before. How the only people he’d seen for days, maybe weeks, were truck drivers he’d hitched a ride from. I’d seen a revolver partially out of his backpack on the ground a few times before I asked about it. I tried to make it sound joking but when you’re in the forest with a stranger you get a bit of a creep up your spine when you realize they have a gun and you do not.

I guess he recognized my unease in the question. “No worries, it’s just for my protection,” he said, “did you hear something butchered a cow at the farm down the road earlier this week? I hear it didn’t look like wolf marks, but whatever it was mowed down a part of the forest fence with it. I wouldn’t recommend you go far from the tent once night falls on your own”

I didn’t pay much mind to that then. It seemed like Lance was looking out for me, or maybe just sharing a story he heard. I spent the next hour or two, after setting my tent up, walking around the area. The roads were in spotty condition at best if I’m honest with you, but the lake was very beautiful and inviting. The forest around was off putting. I cannot describe the feeling, but it felt like the forest could hear your thoughts within it. I did a bit of fishing, planning to share the fish with Lance later at the campfire. There was a nice spot around the peninsula with some rocks to sit on.

When I got back to the opening we were camped out at, it seemed Lance had just come from swimming. His hair and shirt were wet. I asked him how the water was. He seemed a touch alarmed by my question, but maybe I’d snuck up on him. “It was good, thank you” he smiled at me in such a foreign way I would’ve forgotten about the fish had he not pointed them out.

We made a deal; I gutted the fish, and he made a fire. My earlier thoughts of unease were gone again. I was focused on the fish. I’m well aware that sounds stupid, you do not need to remind me. I looked at the lake. The waves were getting bigger despite the fact that I didn’t notice any wind at the time. The lake didn’t seem big enough for wind to pick up waves that size either. Then again, the forest also made a lot of sounds that seemed like wind, if there was wind. Maybe my memory is just hazy about it.

We sat by the fire. It had gotten dark around us and really if you ask me the world might as well have stopped past the tents. With the fire the only light source I couldn’t see much past it. I could hear the lake and the forest, but the water just outside of the light’s glow and the trees blending into the darkness I could not see a thing. Just somewhere in the void.

Lance sat a few meters from me on a different log and talked about stories of Wendigos or something. Like young people do around campfires. I wasn’t really listening to his stories, but he seemed very interested in the idea of the creatures, living in forests, and eating people or whatever. No, I don’t know more about Wendigos, I was more interested in watching my fish get cooked than focus on some cryptid story from Canada.

The fish didn’t take too long to cook, maybe ten minutes, if that. I was excited to dig in, but Lance said he’d get something from his tent first and I agreed to wait so we could eat together. I heard an unsettled yell from his tent and a string of curse words I wouldn’t dare repeat. Checked up on him of course, the floor of his tent was flooded, seemingly torn by something, and taking in water from who knows where.

Maybe he’d set up in a puddle or something, although there was much more water than puddles would hold. Surely he wouldn’t have done so purposefully. I offered him he could stay the night in my tent, of course. I had a spacious one and he was kind enough. He could hitchhike his way to the closest city the next day anyway for a new tent. I didn’t think too hard about it.

We ate the fish I’d gotten. Lance ate his like he hadn’t eaten properly in a while, like he’d been living on various snacks, I don’t know. You tend to forget to make real food when you’re on an adventure, you know? Or maybe not. The waves were getting bigger, I could hear them hitting the shore and it made me uneasy. It still wasn’t windy, I don’t think so anyway, but the humming of the trees lifted a chill up my spine. I remembered the cow incident Lance had mentioned. So, I asked him if we could move inside my tent. I don’t quite remember what excuse I made up to not sound like I was scared. He had a pack of cards, and we played some.

The sound I heard was indescribable. Lance heard it too. It made every hair on my body stand up. “Wait here, don’t leave the tent okay?” he told me and at that point I wasn’t going to argue. Lance grabbed his pistol and got out of the tent and I zipped the door back down after him. I wasn’t really thinking about it.

Actual wind had started by then. It was strong. I could see it pushing in the tent walls. So much so that I heard the small tree I had tied a tent support to snapping. It wasn’t the only one. I could hear the waves crashing into the shoreline. I could hear a disturbance in the waves too, like someone was in them splashing water. And then an ear-splitting gunshot. It bounced in the trees. The sound jarring against all the natural sounds before it and for a moment I couldn’t hear anything else. Only the shot ringing in my ears.

Another tent support snapped, and I knew I’d have to reattach them if I didn’t want the whole thing to roll over in the wind. So very carefully I opened the tent door. No, I don’t know that I had a plan. I know I probably should have. But I don’t think I was thinking that far. I had grabbed my backpack because I had rope in it so I could anchor the tent again.

I know this sounds absolutely insane to you, of course it does. But there it was. Standing on the shore side of the opening. The only lighting was what was left of the campfire and what little lantern light the tent let through. It was staring right at me, a faint glow about its eyes. I froze. It was humanoid, definitely, to an extent. But the way the light from the fire glinted from its teeth, sharp and jutting out like a piranha’s but longer. The way it’s clawed fingers were webbed together. The way its body had spikes webbed together like fins. It had come from the lake, its skin shining, wet. I know how it sounds. It was bleeding from the shoulder, a deep red blood dripping down its body.

I could see the pistol on the ground between me and it. Everything that had been happening, everything Lance had said locked into place. I could only assume that was the thing that had killed the cow, what else could it have been? I could see its tail swish behind it, fins and all. And I ran. Of course, it sounds like nonsense, how do you think I feel? I don’t know how I got away. I remember the deep growl from it, and I remember being kilometres, maybe states, away at an airport clutching onto my backpack and a ticket back home.

Going back? No. No, I thought about it, but I don’t even know where it is. Do you know how many campgrounds with such a generic name there are? I don’t even know what state I was in. I couldn’t go back if I tried. This is the only damn thing I have to prove to anyone, or I guess at this point mostly myself, that any of it even happened. This polaroid picture. You can see me holding the cards we were playing. And he looks so normal, young, and nice. I didn’t even realize he had put it in my bag before I was home. But it’s something to remind me of it. And the more I look at it the more I don’t know anymore. About any of it. But especially not him, his purpose and why he was there.


End file.
